


You and Your Magicians

by moonmoth (greyvvardenfell)



Series: Fictober 2019 [4]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2021-02-23 00:40:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23569606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyvvardenfell/pseuds/moonmoth
Summary: Mazelinka talks Julian down from another bad decision.
Relationships: Apprentice/Julian Devorak, Julian Devorak & Mazelinka, Julian Devorak/Original Character(s)
Series: Fictober 2019 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696495
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	You and Your Magicians

**Author's Note:**

> For the Fictober prompt: "No, and that's final."

“If you don’t knock that off, you’ll wear a track in my floor.”

Julian stopped dead in the middle of Mazelinka’s kitchen, his long coat flapping. “Erm, right. Sorry, Maz.”

“It’s ‘Maz’ now for you too, then, is it? Less than a week back with your sister and you already pick up her vocabulary.” Mazelinka clicked her tongue and tapped her spoon against the rim of her cooking pot, knocking it clean.

“Ahh, what can I say?” Julian risked a nervous glance toward the door before biting his lip and giving his head a small shake, as if to steel himself for the worst. “You know how suggestible I am.”

Mazelinka frowned through the fragrant blue steam pouring from her pot. The closest thing she knew to a son couldn’t hide much from her. “It’s early yet, Ilya,” she said, gruff voice turned soft. “Your friend will be here.”

The gray depths of Julian’s visible eye held storms when he turned to face her fully, one hand driving through his hair while the other plucked at the buttons of his uniform, desperate for distraction. “Is that really for the best? Should she come here? Be here? Be with me? Do any of this? God, I should have ended it when I had the chance, before she fell even deeper into this mire.” He resumed his pacing in earnest, striding from one end of the hut to the other with his shoulders hunched to avoid the low ceiling. “I could still save her, still say something, do something to get her out of this, even if it means—” Julian nearly choked on the idea. “Even if it means I never see her again.”

When the blue steam turned murky purple, Mazelinka reached behind herself for a jar of golden cocoons the length of her little finger. She tipped two into her hand before surveying Julian and adding a third with a frown. The cocoons crumbled easily into papery filaments as she closed her fist around them and sprinkled the fibers into her brew. Even Julian paused his frantic rambling at the puff of metallic smoke that erupted from the cauldron as soon as the husks hit the bubbling liquid.

“What was that?”

“I’ll only tell if you’re willing to listen.”

He flushed. Her tone was more than familiar. “I… I know what you’re going to say.”

She lifted her chin at him and folded her arms across her chest. “Do you now? Out with it, then.”

Julian shuffled his feet. “Erm. Well, ah, you’ll tell me to take a breath. Maybe a couple of breaths.”

“And?”

“And you’ll say I haven’t eaten recently, and I should do that before I decide anything life-changing. But there’s no _time_! Reyja will be here any—”

Mazelinka slapped her spoon against the back of a hanging saucepan, startling him into silence again. “Ilya! Your mind is running away and pulling your tongue with it. Listen to me. Come here.”

Hesitantly, Julian crossed the floor and stood next to the fireplace, in front of Mazelinka. She tugged on the collar of his coat to make him kneel and took his face in both weathered hands, holding her spoon under her arm. “Do you love this girl, this Reyja?”

“She, ah, she’s not a girl, actually. She's… well, not a girl.”

“You certainly have a type, don’t you? You and your magicians.” Mazelinka gazed at him fondly, shaking her head before pressing him for an answer. “Do you love her?”

Beneath her palms, Mazelinka felt more blood rush to warm Julian’s cheeks. “Yes.”

“Then why would you hurt her, and yourself, by running away again, you silly boy?”

“It… no, I would never hurt her! It would save her, don’t you see? I couldn’t live with myself if I did anything that put her in danger.”

Mazelinka shifted one hand to flip Julian’s eyepatch up. He blinked against the firelight and early morning sun peeking through the window, but met her gaze. “You already saved her from danger. You saved all of us that night.”

He grimaced. “What use was that if I turn around and put her right back into it again?”

“Ilya. Ilya, Ilya, Ilya. Has she no say in this? When you came back here last night, you were floating! I could barely get you to settle down and keep from waking the chickens. All because she found you again, right? She didn’t take your 'no, and that’s final’ for an answer. She knew you were making a mistake. You knew you were making a mistake, too, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did. But what else can I do to keep her safe? I’m one man, Maz. One broken, fallible, guilty man. And I won’t bring Reyja down with me. I won’t!”

“Who says you’re going down in the end, eh? This isn’t a battle, Ilyushka, and people aren’t ships.” Mazelinka placed a rough kiss on Julian’s forehead and turned back to the pot on the fire, now full of a wine-dark brew with glittering bubbles scattered across its surface. “Now, you are going to drink this. I’ll send you with more if you get wound up again.” She poured a ladle’s-worth into a tin mug and shoved it into his hands. Julian sat back on his heels, staring into the swirls of maroon and sparkling gold with a crease between his eyebrows.

“What should I do, Mazelinka? I can’t trust my own mind, and that’s all I have to work with.” He sighed heavily and took a small sip of the concoction.

“Is it? The last I heard, you had a heart and soul in that lanky body of yours too. Why not try consulting one of them for a change?”

“What if they steer me wrong?”

“Your heart will not mislead you, Ilya. Mine never did.” Mazelinka dropped her gaze into the cauldron, her kind smile turning wistful for a moment.

Julian recognized the distant look on her face. “Lilinka?”

Mazelinka sighed, lovelorn and lonely. “If your Reyja is anything like what I had with Lili, you fight tooth and nail for her. Do you hear me? The Devil himself may come between you and try to give you hell, but you turn around and you look him in the eye and you give his hell right back.”


End file.
